“Your voice is beautiful, by the way,” she whispers. “Even better than I thought it was going to be, so now you have no more excuses not to sing with me.”

I want to argue with her, tell her she’s wrong. My voice isn’t beautiful. I can’t sing with her. Instead, I decide to nod and enjoy the moment I almost didn’t have.

Chapter 13

Ayden

The week is fairly uneventful, maybe even a little on the normal side. By Friday, I no longer have a detective tailing my every move. I make sure to do everything I’m supposed to and don’t wander off. My life consists of school, band practice, therapy, family time, and Lyric.

Lyric, Lyric, Lyric. I spend all my free time with her, yet it still never feels like enough. I don’t know what’s happening to me exactly, but something is definitely changing.

“Knock. Knock. Knock.” Lyric raps her hand on the doorframe as she strolls into my bedroom with her sketchbook tucked under her arm. She’s wearing a short purple dress, her leather jacket, and black platforms. Her hair is wild around her face, and her lips are stained pink and look absurdly tempting. “Happy tattoo day, Shy Boy.”

I prop my guitar against the wall, swing my legs over the edge, and stand to my feet. “Did you finish up the sketch?”

She bobs her head up and down enthusiastically. “I did. You want to see it?”

“Of course.” I reach to take the sketchbook, but she dodges out of my reach.

A slow, conniving grin spreads across her face. “It’ll cost you.”

My arm falls to my side, and my lips twitch with amusement. “What’s the price?”

She taps a finger against her lips. “Let me think about this. Something pretty awesome, of course, since this is a freaking amazing sketch. Not money. Not anything materialistic. How about a cookie . . . ? No, that doesn’t seem very awesome. I could always make you do a striptease.”

“Lyric”—laughter bursts from my lips—“just tell me what you want.”

“Oh, fine. Take all the fun out of this.” She fakes a pout, but her smile almost instantly lights up her face again. “It’ll cost you a kiss.”

“That’s it?”

“What can I say? Your kisses are pretty valuable.”

Insert awkwardness on my part. I’ve never been good with compliments.

“I don’t think my kisses are that valuable, but if that’s what you want, then I’ll give it to you.” I step forward, slide my hand around her back, and reel her in for a kiss.

The kiss is quick, but leaves me breathless. When I start to move away, Lyric’s arm snakes around my back, and she pushes me right back against her.

“A little bit longer, please,” she begs, arching her chest toward me.

I easily give her what she asks and slip my tongue inside her mouth, kissing her the way she deserves. The kiss goes on for seconds, minutes, hours . . . so long I lose track of time.

Out of breath, I finally have to pull away, giving her bottom lip a gentle nip. She shudders in my arms, and I nearly stop breathing.

God, how can I be alive when my heart is beating so quickly?

“Okay, that definitely earned you the reward of seeing this.” Her voice is gravelly. She clears her throat before opening the sketchbook and hands it to me. “So, what do you think?”

Lines trace the pages and form shapes and swirls, dark and bright shades and vivid colors, patterns that all surround a fiery gold and red bird with its wings spread wide.

God, this must have taken her forever.

“It’s a phoenix,” she explains, “which is supposed to mean rebirth and strength. I thought it was pretty fitting.”

That’s how she sees me? For some reason, the thought causes my heart to swell inside my chest.

I smooth my hand over the page. “It’s amazing. More than amazing. I don’t even know what to say.”

“So, you like it?”

“It’s perfect. I don’t think you could have done anything more perfect.” I shake my head in awe. “God, Lyric, this is amazing. I mean, I know you’re talented, but . . . This must have taken you days to draw.”

“Nah, it wasn’t that long.” She waves me off. “But I was freaking out that you would hate it.”

“No, I love it.” I love you. I shake the thought from my head and thank her by kissing her again.

“Oh, a bonus payment.” Her lips move against mine as she cracks a joke.

“You can have as many bonus payments as you want. I owe you a ton, anyway, for putting up with my shit the other night. I should have never upset you like that. I didn’t realize that you . . .” I kiss her again and again, tipping her head back and tangling our tongues, her lips hot and inviting.

Moaning, she grips at my arms and clutches onto me as I lower her to the bed.

“As much as I love where this is going,” she murmurs as her back is just about to touch the mattress, “on my way up here, I was told to make sure to tell you that we have to leave in no less than five minutes; otherwise, we’ll be late for your appointment.”

I grunt in response, and she erupts with laughter.

“I’ve never heard you sound that frustrated before. That was pretty funny.”

“You think that’s funny?” My hand skates around to her ribcage, and I tickle her.

“Hey!” she gripes, writhing below me. “That’s not fair.”